


Christening the Orion

by Irony_Rocks



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irony_Rocks/pseuds/Irony_Rocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the notjustclosets challenge, where authors write Sheppard/Weir smut realistically into every episode. I got <i>Inferno</i>. "The flirting comes as natural to them now as breathing, and Elizabeth can't help but compare it to quicksand. All she does is stand there and yet she keeps on sinking in deeper and deeper as time goes on. Any resistance to it just seems to make things worse."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christening the Orion

**Title:** Christening the Orion (COMPLETE)  
 **Pairing:** Sheppard/Weir  
 **Summary:** The flirting comes as natural to them now as breathing, and Elizabeth can't help but compare it to quicksand. All she does is stand there and yet she keeps on sinking in deeper and deeper as time goes on. Any resistance to it just seems to make things worse.  
 **Warnings:** NC-17, sexual situations PWP.  
 **Spoilers:** post _Inferno_  
 **Beta'd:** None.  
 **Author's Note** : For the challenge, where authors write Sheppard/Weir smut realistically into every episode. I got _Inferno_ , and though I had originally been frustrated by this assignment, I rewatched a few S2 episodes lately and wow, the flirting in some scenes was really through the roof. ;) I post early because apparently I am an over-achiever when it comes to smut.

 

 _Inferno_

\--x--

The jumper glides smoothly through space as they approach the Orion, and Elizabeth studies the looming warship against the stark, black backdrop with a critical eye. A part of her is finally beginning to understand a bit of John's boyish excitement. When she'd first set her eyes upon the Orion when it'd clear hyperspace outside Atlantis, Elizabeth had been too relieved to discover John's team had survived the Taranian planet's destruction than to actually spare much attention to the Ancient vessel itself.

Now, she has a better view and a clearer head.

It certainly isn't as polished and sophisticated like most of the other Ancient technology they've seen. The structure is rough - deteriorating and crumbling at places, even. She doesn't expect praise from Rodney's diagnostic checks, and she certainly isn't looking forward to the request she's going have to put in to the IOA for funding the repairs. Elizabeth twists slightly in her seat, casting a brief glance back at Ronon and Teyla before she looks to Rodney, who's typing away on his laptop in the back section of the jumper.

"Rodney," she calls curiously. "How are the diagnostic checks going?"

He huffs an annoyed breath. "The exterior integrity isn't going to cave in and kill us upon landing but I wouldn't go shooting BB guns inside the damn thing for fear of rupturing the hull."

She sighs heavily. "That good, huh?"

She turns to find John landing the jumper with a soft touch down onto Orion's docking bay, gearing down quickly with a final glance in her direction. "She looks pretty run down," he concedes, "but we fix a few patches, correct a few systems and she'll be as good as new—"

Rodney snorts his disdain. "Please, like you're actually going to do any of the work."

John hits the switch that opens the rear hatch. "Rodney, you're already sitting in the back of the bus, but if you're a good boy I'll let you sit in one of the big boy chairs on the way back to Atlantis."

This, predictably, sets off a bickering match between the two while the group unloads onto the docking bay, but Elizabeth isn't paying attention. For the first time, she steps onto the metal alloy of the Orion and lets her gaze travel across the interior of the hull. The docking bay alone is an impressive sight - probably half a football field wide. It's going to take a lot of money, time and effort to get this ship back up to acceptable standards, but despite all that, it _does_ have a certain charm to it.

John sidles up beside her. "This ship could prove extraordinarily useful in the upcoming months," he murmurs to her, and an image of an overeager puppy comes to her mind before she can quash the imagery. "It's nearly twice the size of the Aurora."

Elizabeth refrains from rolling her eyes as they start down one of the long blue corridors. "That's nice, Colonel, but you know… size isn't everything."

John shoots her a dirty look while Rodney snickers in the background – and the expression on John's face is an exact mirror to the one she'd given him earlier the previous day, talking about "hot girls" and "smitten boys." And she knows – just _knows_ \- that unlike the other comments, this remark is going to cost her something.

They've been sleeping together just long enough to start getting good about not making it obvious to others, but this is just one of those times where she can't help but poke fun at him. They continue the tour but John steals the spot beside her after edging an oblivious Rodney out of the way. She catches an indulgent smile on Teyla's face and Ronon's knowing eye roll, and in the back of her head there's a small voice cautioning Elizabeth about making their evolving relationship too perceptible in front of company.

Warning bells start ringing in her ears, and yet, the shameless comments just keep coming as they wind through the corridors and John points out all the interesting (to him, anyway) spots on the ship.

"And to the left we have the galley," John tips her a smile, "and the beginning of the crew quarters."

Which clearly means only one thing – _beds_.

Elizabeth sends him a warning glare, but he's trying so damn hard to make her smile, willing to do anything – including making an idiot out of himself – to draw the response from her. She shouldn't encourage the behavior, but the truth is, it's charming in a dorky sort of way and damn if doesn't work nine times out of ten. She usually isn't this bad about the flirting, at least while others can observe it anyway. But with John's team? It's a little harder to remember that they're both _supposed_ to act like professional, mature adults.

Well, Elizabeth is expected to act like an adult at the very least.

She schools her face into a smooth mask and turns back to the others. "Alright, Rodney, tell me everything I don't want to hear."

Rodney rattles off a list of things two miles long that need to be fixed, upgraded or entirely replaced. "The weapons system has been completely depleted. The life support system is dangerously inadequate and there's also the distinct possibility that a small asteroid could rupture the exterior hull of the ship and suck out all our oxygen."

John turns to her with a carefree smile, slapping his hands together eagerly. "So, let's continue the tour?"

"Oh, yes, please," Elizabeth manages with a straight face, "before the oxygen starts running out."

"Relax," John chides, "We'll get a warning before that becomes a problem."

"A warning?"

John shrugs casually. "We'd likely lose our inertial dampeners or something, but you know, we can live without that."

"Yes," Elizabeth remarks with a nod. "Gravity is highly overrated."

John flashes a lopsided grin and continues with the dime tour; a little bounce in his step that she finds – God help her – a tad endearing. Despite appearances and the fact that the Orion may not be the safest ship they'd ever flown, it's still an amazing piece of work. For all Elizabeth's experience and exposure over the years in the Pegasus galaxy, she still can't get over the sheer brilliance of the Ancients.

Nothing compares to the grandeur of Atlantis, though. In Elizabeth's eyes nothing ever will.

When they make it to the command deck, Teyla murmurs an excuse to separate and requests some help in retrieving a couple items left back in the docking bay.

"Just take He-Man with you and load him up like a donkey," Rodney mutters distractedly with a wave of his hand. "I'm busy running a diagnostic—" Ronon clamps a hand over his shoulder and just starts tugging him down the hallway. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

"Guess what?" Ronon replies with a feral grin, silently daring Rodney to argue with a dark look. "You just volunteered yourself."

"Ronon," she hears Teyla say with a patient sigh as the three of them retreat around the corner. "You do not have to be so rough."

Elizabeth watches them go, trying so desperately to smother a laugh but it's hopeless. "Is your team always this…" she trails off, because for all her linguistics skills, she doesn't think there's any one word that's appropriate enough to describe John's team succinctly. She shakes her head and smiles, and when she turns back to John, he's staring at her, a little proud grin on his face. "What?" she inquires with a lift of a brow.

"Nothing," he murmurs innocently as he turns away. "You just seem like you're having a good time."

She pauses for a split second, and nods graciously. "I am, actually."

That smile kicks up a notch, turning smug. "I know."

Her eyes narrow, and she realizes he's damn proud of himself for how loosened up she's been acting the last few hours since leaving Atlantis. The flirting comes as natural to them now as breathing, and Elizabeth can't help but compare it to quicksand. All she does is stand there and yet she keeps on sinking in deeper and deeper as time goes on. Any resistance to it just seems to make things worse.

Still, she has her pride. "Wow," she murmurs with feigned appreciation, "I can actually see your ego inflating as we stand here."

He rocks on the balls of his feet, undeterred by her teasing. "Don't lie to me, Elizabeth. You've smiled more in the last few hours than you regularly do in _days._ "

It's true, and she knows he's the reason why but prudence demands that she doesn't let that go to his head. Truth be told, she's still a little giddy from having his team back safe and sound after the volcano on the Taranian homeworld threatened to sallow them up whole. If John Sheppard ever knew how easily he affected her, no good would ever come of it. His ego – among other things – would likely never come down.

She tosses him a warning look. "It's just easier being this way when I'm not in pressed for time or dealing with the latest emergency."

He nods dutifully, but that smug smile is still plastered on his lips. Elizabeth tilts her head and studies him for a bit, and because she knows John better than probably anybody else, a plan formulates in less than a split-second. The trick to wiping that smug smile off his face isn't to appeal to reason. No, in a situation like this it's always better to play offense rather than defense.

"You think you know me so well," she challenges as she walks away, sweeping a hand across the nearby console. "You think you've got me completely figured out, don't you?"

"Admit it," John retorts, "you're having a good time and we both know why."

She shakes her head in denial. "Nope, not having a good time at all. At least not yet."

John pins her with a hard look, challenging, "Yeah? And what exactly is lacking in our current circumstances that would make things more to your satisfaction?"

She turns back to him and smiles – purely wicked, the type of smile she's given to only a few men in her life; only when she felt it necessary to prove something. She admits the next words flatly with no sugarcoating or tactful structuring to the thought at all. "I'm just thinking about all the different ways I could wipe that smirk off your face."

\--x--

By the time Elizabeth is just getting started, John's groaning weakly, clearly frustrated, but the small noises of dirty satisfaction threaten to curl Elizabeth's lips into a smug grin of her own – if only her lips weren't currently preoccupied with something else entirely. She takes a perverse amount of pleasure at handling him like this, swirling her tongue over his shaft and pumping the rest of his length with her free hand. The other palm is pressed flat against the walls of their little room – one of the crew quarters, though they haven't touched the bed at all.

John's leaning heavily against the wall for support, eyes screwed shut, fingers tangled in her hair as his hips buck slightly against her mouth. When she turns him into _this_ \- this flustered and needy guy, incoherent as he curses her name under his breath in half pleasure, half frustration – she knows John's so far gone that he can't remember his own name, only hers. There's a sense of power and entitlement in doing that, and she loves being the one to make him lose control so easily.

Just because this relationship is in new territory doesn't mean that Elizabeth doesn't know exactly what she's doing. The flirting overflows from the bedroom to the office sometimes, but Elizabeth likes to think she still has a good handle on things.

Clearly a good handle on John, too.

She pumps him a few more times, simultaneously licking her tongue clear across his cock, and John's hips are almost shaking with restraint. She knows he's desperately trying not thrust but he clearly can't control the involuntary jerk of his hips. She almost has to pull back, short of making him come, but her eyes glance heavenward to find his face scrunched up in an expression of pleasure that borders on pain. It'd be cruel to stop now, so she continues and it's probably no more than a few seconds before she senses he's on the absolute edge. It's confirmed when he grunts her name with a clear warning in his voice.

She pulls back, her hand still working him, and his hips jerks and he spills over her fingers, coming with a distinct and darkly satisfied noise that is unlike any other she ever hears. His body crumples slightly, collapsing back against the wall, clearly spent. When she rises, the smirk she has on her lips quite possibly, single-handedly, outdoes the long history of his infamous ones. She travels up the length of his torso to nip slightly at one of his ridiculously cute ears with her teeth. His body twitches, and she smiles as she lavishes his satiated body with attention that it probably doesn't even need anymore.

"Jesus, that was…"

"Hot?" she innocently intones, in that same exact teasing voice she'd used against him yesterday. He laughs, and she can feel the reverberations of his body because they're pressed chest-to-chest. "See?" she murmurs against his ear. "You don't know me as well as you think."

He grunts, because the fact that she did this for him – to him – onboard the Orion when the others were still one deck below, is something she almost doesn't believe herself. She figures John probably fantasized about this – he has a habit of sharing some of his fantasies with her when they're in bed and the interludes always seem to occur in the most improbable places. He probably never suspected that she'd actually go through with it, though – certainly not the prim and proper Dr. Elizabeth Weir.

What most people never understand is that Elizabeth is as human as the next girl over. She has needs and desires, and she's as fallible as anyone. That's just one of the many reasons why she's allowed herself to get involved with a man clearly marked off-limits to her. John understands her better than most, but evidently she still manages to catch him by surprise too.

That makes her more than a little bit proud.

She's still pressed against him when John's hand slip under her elastic waistband, pressing fingers against her wet panties. Her teasing smile falters with a hitch of breath, and it's apparently John's chance to turn smug. It's a give-and-take relationship with them, both inside and outside of the bedroom, so she knew reciprocation was coming before he started towards it. They don't have time for actual sex – not with his team combing through the bowels of the ship - but there's time enough for _this_.

Besides, in many ways their relationship is so new and refreshing that Elizabeth always feels every one of his touches through and through like it's the first.

She fists her hands around his jacket as his fingers push aside her underwear and slides a digit inside of her. Her hips angle slightly, helping him hit just the right spot and then his finger is moving in and out easily, swiftly, before adding another one. Her back arches towards him as his thumb finds her clit, calloused digits working her over the edge and she's coming almost before she realizes it; her entire body shuddering only a few moments after he began his assault.

He holds her close as she rides out the violent tremors, soothing her back with a sweep of his hand, murmuring gently into the curls of her hair. She has a moment to calm down – to come down – before she registers his soft words for what they are. "I've got you," he murmurs, "Shh, I've got you."

John can be teasing. He can be smug. He can be a damn number of things that's frustrating and endearing, but she thinks she likes him best when he's like this: just holding her, softly, gently, not a scintilla of defenses up in place. She thinks he's more open and honest with her here, during the post-coital haze, than he is during any other moments in time.

Flirting and teasing is all well and good, but this, right here, is the really good stuff.

"You know," he murmurs to her, breaking the lull of silence, "I really am beginning to love this ship."

She laughs against his chest, and nods in agreement.

\--x--


End file.
